Page 64 of Split You Open

I snort, the sound bitter and derisive. “You don’t. Time helps but the wound is always there. I think we can all attest to that.”

“But we all experienced a different type of heartache,” Rhett counters with a scowl.

“Heartache is heartache. I don’t think there’s much of a difference.” Santi walks over and stops beside me to look between me and Rhett. “We just have to love her a bunch and hope it’s enough to at least buffer some of the pain. None of us had anyone to lean on when our families died, but it won’t be like that for her—she’ll have us. I don’t think our love is enough to save Ledger though.”

“So…” Rhett hedges quietly. “What do we do, then?”

I’ve been absolutely positive that killing Ledger was our best bet here. I’d been sure of it since the moment he pointed a gun at my head. But in the past several hours, I’ve been reconsidering that option. If Ledger wanted Blair dead, there would’ve been a hundred easier ways to do it than this. And like I told Santi the night all this shit came to a head—I don’t think Ledger wants to see Blair dead. He’s been obsessed with her for years.

So, why put a hit on Blair? If not to kill her… then for what reason?

That uncertainty, along with the fact that Ledger helped Blair and Rhett when trouble found them, has me second guessing my decision. With these two back home now, I’m not nearly as angry. And without the anger, I’m beginning to think a bit clearer.

Before anyone else can say anything more, the sound of the door slamming gains our attention. We all look behind us to find Blair strolling over. In her hand is a shoebox.

I move, meeting her halfway.

“You hanging in there?” I ask, unable to read the eerily detached expression on her face.

She says nothing as we walk toward the fire. She stops beside Rhett, who eyes the box curiously.

“Whatcha got there?” Santi asks, moving closer to take a look.

“I found it,” Blair says, her voice just as cold and detached as her expression. “It was tucked away in a hole in the ceiling of Ledger’s closet.”

“What?” I ask, confused. “How would you have known to look in there?”

The sound that slips past her lips is—I think—supposed to be a laugh. Yet it’s so filled with bitterness that it sounds more robotic and dark.

Rhett visibly shudders.

I suppress the urge to do the same.

“Ledger always said to look up. Our natural instinct is to scan everything at eye level first, but really, the danger will most always come from above.” She hums thoughtfully before adding. “Sniper logic, I guess.”

“What’s inside?” I ask.

“Me.”

I don’t understand her answer and judging by the confusion on Rhett and Santi’s face they don’t get it either. As if she can sense our confusion, Blair opens the lid and sits the box inside of it.

I lean closer to peer into the box only to find a few random little objects.

Blair picks up a hair clip. “This is mine. It went missing not long after I started my first nursing gig. I thought I lost it.”

She drops the item back into the box and lifts a torn piece of cloth.

“This goes to my favorite shirt that I bought during my short stay in a small town in Montana five years ago. I’d thought I’d snagged it on something and torn it. I still have that shirt… or had before I left everything behind to come here.”

The piece of fabric is dropped back into the box.

Blair pulls out a tube of lip gloss next. She doesn’t elaborate on this, but she doesn’t have to. That must be hers as well from some vague period in her life. The last item she picks up is with trembling hands. It’s a postcard, one clearly never delivered. “Hello from Colorado Springs!” is stretched across the front of it with a picturesque scenery behind the words. Blair flips it over for us to see what’s written on the other side.

Dear Ledger⁠—

Please don’t hate me. I’m sorry.

Love, B.